Apologize
by Elaine Vivian
Summary: Maybe it's not too late.


It had been a year since his brother had gotten married, and Oscar Delancey still hadn't talked to him since before that—not since what happened with the girl, and that was ages and ages ago.

When people looked at him, all they saw was a wisecracking thug who'd fallen victim to the agents of sin. He had his booze and smoke and women, although less now since Red. But nobody liked him and that stuck in him like a nail in the wall. The hardness that his life had made of him let him do the tings he'd done, things that part of him regretted.

He used to be happy. He used to be just a kid. But then his parents had left and Lucy had died—she'd always been the light in their lives—and they'd gone to work for their uncle. Slowly, everything had spiraled out of his control, and though he knew it wasn't his fault, he placed all of the blame on himself. He blamed himself for not working harder, for not being careful, for not walking Lucy to school, for not loving his brother. Eventually he'd locked it up inside of a cage deep within his heart and he didn't bother with it any longer.

Something had happened to him after Red, though. He was still his brutish self, without a doubt, but he was a man in love, and in private she had softened his hardened heart, going deeper and deeper until she found what he didn't want her to see.

She had found his hatred for all things, including himself most of all. She'd made him talk about it and tell her everything that he felt, and for the first time since he was young child, he cried. He cried, he wept, he lamented himself. By the end of it she told him what he had to do to make it better. He'd told her it was insane—he doubted his brother would even want to look at him, much less talk to him—but she'd insisted. And that was how he'd ended up at at his brother's door the very next evening.

It was Morris' wife—the girl whose death he'd nearly been responsible for—who answered the door when he knocked. Her eyes widened in fear and she tried to shut the door on him but he blocked it with his foot. "Please," he said quietly, "I need to talk to my brother."

She saw that his eyes weren't angry, but sad, and she let him inside. At first sight he saw was Morris sitting on the sofa, looking lovingly at a sleeping child that lay in his arms. _So_, Oscar thought, _I'se an uncle. Wonder for how long_.

Morris looked up from the child when he realized that someone else was in the room. He stood quickly though gently as to not wake the baby and beckoned his wife over, handing her the child and ushering them into what Oscar guessed was their bedroom. Then he turned to his older brother and asked in a monotone, "What do you want?"

"To talk."

Morris gestured to the dining table and they sat across from each other. "The last time I talked to you," he said, his voice noticeably controlled, "you were trying to rape my wife."

"Well when you put it that way—"

"I ain't putting it any way, Oscar. I'se just saying what happened."

"We all make mistakes."

"You almost killed her. Twice. I woulda gone with her, y'know. If she had died, I woulda, too. And you made that choice, and you shoulda _known_ what coulda happened. You. Made. That. Choice. You call that a mistake?

Oscar clenched his fists. "Yeah, Morris. I do call it a mistake. It was a bad one, the worst one, sure, but it was a mistake. And I'se sorry."

"I ain't the one you should be apologizing to."

He sighed, exasperated. "You gotta know how much I hate myself. I'se worthless, and I'se better off dead, I know that. But I do gotta heart. It exists. Red—Josephine, she knows that. She can see it. You think you could try?"

"Why should I?"

"Because I… care. I care about you. I always cared. You'se my brother, Morris, and I have always loved you. It don't matter how bad I show it, because it's true. It's always gonna be true."

Morris looked away, closing his eyes and pursing his lips. "And I loved you, too. But after everything you did… it took so long for her to be able to look at me without being reminded of you. Even now I havta be careful around her or she gets scared. How am I supposed to just let go of that?"

"You ain't. But let me do something to make it better. Let me… let me apologize to her," Oscar said. "Let me apologize to Stars."

Morris laughed bitterly. "Stars? She's dead. She died a long time ago. I'se sure you can figure out when. So no, you can't apologize to Stars."

Oscar pushed back his chair and stood up. "Well then, I can see that I'se wasting my time. I'se sorry for bothering you—"

"But you can apologize to Lucy."

Oscar stopped in his tracks. Lucy?

"Who?"

"Lucy. That's her name. It's what I call her, what she calls herself. It's who she is now. She's not a star anymore—she doesn't shine. She doesn't stand out like she used to. But she's soft, and she glows, and she's a light for me."

"Just like…" Memories of their little sister flooded into Oscar's brain, and he realized how much Morris' wife now resembled her. Now that she wasn't so fiercely independent, so in-your-face… now that she was scared. "Can I go in?" He nodded toward the bedroom. Morris nodded.

He opened the door slowly and walked in, pausing when she turned around and saw him there. "Don't hurt me, please," she whispered.

"I wasn't planning on it," he murmured back. "I need to say something to you… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, _Lucy_."

She let out a quiet sob, covering her mouth as soon as she realized it. He went over to her. "You can cry if you wanna. It ain't nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, even I do it sometimes… listen, Lucy, I don't want you to hate me. I hate myself enough for the both of us, ok? And you may not know this, but I love my brother. I do. And if you'se what he loves… then I can love you, too. I just… I need you to forgive me. Please."

She looked at him with tears in her eyes and smiled softly. "What did Red do to you?"

He laughed. "I dunno, I really don't."

"Whatever it is… I like it. Really," she murmured. "It's nice to see you smile."


End file.
